Like Emily, I've spent the past day and a half struggling against my own incapacitated state. Wednesday afternoon, heading home, needing supper right now, I crashed my bike. It's so odd to find oneself crying in a parking lot, a grown adult and it doesn't make a difference. I scraped and bruised my hand badly enough that I've missed two days of work in the cafe--largely two days of work in general, since my hand is swollen, raw, weeping, and swathed in strips of tea towel. I've been able to do very little except read. I'm nearly through Independent People.

Since I was going to be in bed anyway, yesterday seemed like an excellent fast day. I've resumed the intermittent fasting experiment I began two summers ago, combining it with lifting, cycling, mindfulness, L-theanine, and research on stress to try and make further progress on some of the mind/body health issues I've been aware of for some time. The goal is always the same: to be healthy, sane, happy. And wasn't it a severe blood sugar crash that made me unable to keep my balance? Among other things, regular small fasts can help the body learn to self-regulate blood sugar levels. So fasting and resting and nursing my wounds seemed like a good itinerary. But I was miserable all day: exhausted, cold, irritable, unable to concentrate. There was a mountain of work I had to do and I was either unable or unwilling to do any of it. Time was a bitch, sluggishly running away from me. Nothing makes me more angry or more anxious than a "wasted" day.

Today does not seem wildly better. My hand is still swathed. The house is still a mess. I'm eating blueberries and whole milk. I'm reminded of how horrible I felt when I was coming off anti-depressants. I got the flu. I've come such a long way since then. I am so much stronger. I am so much more capable, less embarrassed. Tim wants me to come outside. He says it's beautiful. He's wearing short shorts and a blue t-shirt. He's beautiful. I feel ugly, pale, and reclusive; soft and slimey, a bandaged snail.

I'll go outside though.

ETA: How could I forget how great boredom and restlessness can be for creative output? I spent my entire childhood waiting for something to happen. I never really made anything happen--I didn't know how. I failed a lot. But I also got into this little habit of writing about the fine-grained and torturous in life and boredom and relationships, and it really has served me well.All to say: two new poems this afternoon and a sketch for a bit of graphic design I'll be needing soon . . .

It's only taken 22 years to get here, but: tonight, my own body is a pretty good place to be.

Today, like a lot of days, I spent about an hour cycling. I restocked the fridge at work carrying 24 litres of milk at a time. I ate lentils and drank rose-water soda-water. I slept outside wearing very little clothing. I squatted with an 85-pound barbell on my back, and I deadlifted more than my own body weight.

I swear I felt older when I was 13 than I do now. When I was 13, my body seemed to be breaking down--I was a disintegrating pile of angry red stretch marks and excess weight that had only brought an uncomfortable, overblown femininity and no new stamina or ability to speak of. The only salvation I saw was in shrinking myself down, becoming impossibly small and slight.

A few weeks ago, I saw a picture on a fashion blog of a tiny, gorgeous woman who was about the size and shape I'd always wanted to be. She wrote that she wanted to bulk up, become healthier because she couldn't lift a frying pan.

- learn to make my own happiness (because it is not Tim's job, and because circumstances will not always be peachy)

It was paying to get my hair cut. Painting my toenails. Walking in the cemetery. Making a good effort at work. Spending time with friends, in spite of that fear that I am socially awkward. Drinking beer while making supper. Singing--which I hadn't really done since moving in with Tim.

- remove makeup every night(this has never, ever been a habit--now that flossing is down, it's time)

Something of a fail. Must get back to this simple thing.

- reach goal weight once and for all (140 pounds)

Indulge me while I digress for a moment. The more I think about this, the more I realize that what I want for my body is a hell of a lot more than a smaller number on the scale. I want to be really strong. I want to be able to run when I feel like it. I want to take a bike trip this summer. I want to feel good after eating. I am becoming attracted to the idea of more serious lifting. Since Christmas, with a lapse in the middle of February, I've been doing both strength training and short bouts of cardio. I feel amazing after lifting free weights, holding a long plank, actually feeling my chest touch the ground during a push-up. I adore my biceps. Today I squatted for the first time, holding one of the dumbbells Tim uses on his arms. 8 hours later, my whole body hurts in a very, very good way.

- pay back money owed Tim(so very close)

Closer. Almost.

- pay off student loan (not so close)

- repair book cubes(damaged in the move last spring)

- further improve backyard(especially firepit, but also hope for fruit trees, removal of gravel, chopping of hoary huge evergreen)

- write something (anything) every day (this should be at the top of the list)

Like washing my face: so easy, so hard. I must, I must. And notes for poems too.

- learn more about math and computing (calculus, number theory, Python)

- publish in at least one magazine (which means submitting)

- give excellent presents (better than last year)

My friend Amelia got married. I bought her this book. If that isn't a good present, I don't know what is.

- apply for at least one "real" job (something outside the service industry, something challenging, something that utilizes my skills)

As you know, this is going well. I'm through the first chapter on basic doughs. I've started the sourdough chapter.

- get a tattoo (at last at last)

- put more of myself into relationships (especially that relationship with one Tim Put)

It was continuing to talk. Trying very hard to nip passive aggression in the bud. Not spoiling Tim's birthday with impossible expectations, but leaving a miniature cherry pie at Transcend for him to find when he opened the cafe. Making friend dates.

- use my nice things(and remember that I have many)

It was yarn that had been "stashed" for a while, turned into a cowl and a sweater. Hoarded coconut milk turned into rice pudding, and saved butterscotch chips turned into cookies. A tiny handsewn notebook filled with grocery lists. A perfume bottle emptied.

- make and repair more, and buy better and less (I need a darning egg)

Tim's sweater is done, after trials and tribulations. I'm in the middle of a mildly overwhelming repair/restoration that I hope to blog about this week. As mentioned, I repaired my rubber boots.

Last week: I got strength training in four days out of seven, water in six days out of seven, garden harvest in two days out of seven (though we did eat our own produce almost every day--straight from the fridge), vitamins six days, 3 proper meals (well, I did my best) seven days, fun exercise 5 days, bedtime routine 6 days. Overall, not so bad. We spent the long weekend at Tim's parents' place, keeping Tim's little sister company, and I always find it difficult to maintain healthy habits while away from home. I made a concerted effort to reduce sugar while increasing fruits, vegetables, and protein, and I think I definitely improved on the status quo. There was homemade hummus, pears, bowls and bowls of berries, peanuts, cucumbers, borscht, roast chicken, raw pumpkin seeds, cherries, tanniny black tea, pesto, wholegrain bread, butter lettuce, Liberte yogurt . . .

However, it is time for a new list, an update on perspective, another BBC video. (After blogging for four years and posting one or two videos the entire time, I realize that three out of the last twelve posts end with some youtube gem. Odd.)

But allow me to digress. Tim enjoys keeping up with the cutting edge of research on ageing, and has been talking for a couple of months about the large body of evidence supporting the benefits of intermittent fasting. As someone recovered from an eating disorder, who has fought long and hard to be able to eat regularly, I was suspicious. I said to Tim, Isn't this what they used to call a starve-and-binge cycle? Apparently not.

Intermittent fasting can be practiced on a wide variety of schedules, ranging from daily 18-hour fasts (you fit all of your meals into a 6-hour period), to bi-monthly (that's once every two months) four-day fasts. The benefits for general health seem pretty considerable, but the point of it all is to allow your body "time off" from metabolizing food, halting the compulsion to constantly produce new cells, giving it time to repair itself, and thus slowing down bodily decay. The anti-ageing effects of keeping mice's metabolisms out of overdrive by keeping the mice on a very low-calorie diet have been well-documented for decades, but intermittent fasting takes a different approach. Far from being the newest manifestation of glorified anorexia (like some diets I could mention), intermittent fasting is not necessarily associated with caloric restriction, as this article explains. Nor does this kind of fasting involve avoiding food for as long as possible, only to overeat later. Recommended calorie intake remains recommended calorie intake.

After watching Michael Mosely's take on it last night (while finishing the first sock! but more on that later), I was very intrigued. Thus, and by now probably not surprisingly, my goals for the upcoming week include an experiment. Like Mosely, I am most attracted to the five-two schedule, and have decided that this week on Saturday and Wednesday (two of the days I'll be spending at work), I will eat a small meal at breakfast and abstain from food the rest of the day. Sunday, Monday, etc., I will eat normally, whenever I feel hungry. I'll blog my observations both "fast" days, and if things go well, I may try another several weeks.

As for other goals, I would like to continue with strength training, water, vitamins, a bedtime routine--and add a daily walk.

I haven't forgotten about this post, or all that underlies it. (Not for a minute.) I have been eating more vegetables, more protein, drinking more water. I've cooked a whole salmon and made a gorgeous meal out of yellow wax beans with a bit of butter. It's a start. But it feels tenuous, and I need to feel strong again.

To that end, a few specific and achievable daily goals for the next 7 days, to be duly reported on next Tuesday:

So. When was the last time I talked about my health? Ah yes, you're right. I've complained about it frequently over the past several months. I feel fat, I feel tired, and round and round we go.

More to the point, when was the last time I put in some sustained effort? Two summers ago I was discovering the benefits of a healthy lifestyle for the first time, and I felt great. Although I'm a lot stronger than I was then, and make a small handful of "good choices" regularly and automatically, I have definitely stopped being as deliberate about eating, sleep, exercise, breathing . . . My mood has suffered. I've become more difficult to live with. My self-esteem is at quite an ebb. And this post is as relevant as ever.

Throughout this recent era of slackery, I have managed to do some serious thinking. I've read some books, I've watched myself, and I've drawn some conclusions. Number one: I do know how to care for my body; it's just that ninety-percent of the time, I am unwilling to do what needs to be done. Not unable, but, for various reasons, unwilling.

So. What needs to be done? I will get rid of the passive. What do I need to do? Starting now?

~ Drink more water--between three and four litres in total every day.

~ Consume far less sugar. If I've learned anything about what my body wants, it's that it almost never wants sugar. I feel nauseous and lethargic every time.

~ Consume far less everything. I'm becoming convinced that my constant stomach aches are the result of too much food, and that even my most conservative portions over-estimate my hunger levels.

Oh, I have been unkind to myself. In fact, for now, Tim is looking at the scale for me, so that number doesn't throw me into a panic, so the panic doesn't throw me into a self-destructive spiral.

I keep repeating: I am still 15 pounds lighter than I was a year ago, even if my size 8s are a little tighter than they were. I am much stronger. I haven't binged in months. I haven't once made myself vomit. I haven't given up.

But I think I have forgotten the value of small steps. An extra ten minutes of hooping or jumping rope or cycling every day, a few minutes spent on strength training or core work. I've forgotten the value of moderation in eating, forgotten that skipping meals always makes everything worse. I've not bothered to eat properly on the days that I spend at work.

Tonight I took some small steps. I cycled a few laps back and forth over the bridge (and its infamous ramp). I got espresso at Transcend, and took some pictures. I came home and drank beer out of my preferred beer glass. I am determined to return to the spirit in which I started this project last summer. I want to take care of myself.

For the next seven days, I am going to post pictures of all my meals. For real. I am going to take some time to exercise (in addition to my short commute to work) every day. I am going to step on the scale every day. I am going to work on my still-sore shins. I am going to drink lots of water. If I mess up, I am going to forget it and keep going.

So, forgive me while this space morphs temporarily into a weight loss blog.

I began complaining about the winter in October. And I continued to complain through six months of cold, right up until the last snow fall a week ago melted upon touching down and I felt relieved.

The truth is, I find the summer just as hard. With school over, I am skittering wildly. What to make, to do, to think about now? For the past eight months, my life has been on hold. Everything from dentist appointments to sewing projects entices and frightens. And then there is the Real Work - writing - ten times better and worse than all the rest. But perhaps the most terrifying thing is food.

I don't need to mention my history again. A imagined slip of control can prove disastrous for me. Even an imagined slip of the kinder, more reasonable and forgiving control I have been aiming to keep on this area of my life. Suddenly the fact that I have not weighed myself in over a month fills me with dread. If I eat too much, I want to 'make it up' with starving or exercise, an entirely pointless way, if I want to stay healthy. (And I do, I do.) I've been surprised by the way my haphazard shift-schedule makes it difficult to eat. If I'm not home to cook for myself, I eat what is convenient, feel guilty later, and try to avoid further intake for as long as possible (eventually succumbing of course). I feel like I am back exactly where I started last August.

It's all bullshit. I've already forgotten the 5km I ran last month, the 40 km I biked last week, the way I've stuck to my early suppers and gotten my vegetables. Triumphs.

I cannot treat myself like this. On May 25, I'll step back on the scale. Until then, the plan is as simple as it has ever been:

- no running - my shins need some time- no skipping meals- no eating after 7pm- lots of water- biking every day (I have to get to know Annalena)- core work every day- hula hooping - vegetables- vitamins

What happens when you wake up at 5am on the morning of your first race and realize that not a single bus runs past the park you are supposed to run through?

You check out the local taxi situation, learn that a 20-minute trip will cost you 30 dollars. And then you put on your race shirt and your mascara, and instead run 5.4 km along a well-known and well-loved route. The sun rises, the mist burns off the river valley, Whoopi Goldberg sings in your ear. Your legs are fine. You hold your head up. And you burst in the door 40 minutes and 30 seconds later, just as your husband is waking up.

Damn this week. I don't know if I lost two pounds, because I've been scared to weigh myself. However, I am very pleased to report that I ran three times, took four or five bicycle trips, and relished the sight of the bare roads and sidewalks, all newly cracked and heaving, but dry. I made granola, and chicken stock from scratch, packed food for work and school, used my hula hoop and dumb bells, and pounded out 20 minutes straight on my aunt's treadmill. Can I also say that Tim gets puffed keeping up with me?

Goals for this week:

- plan meals- refrain from eating after 7pm- run four times

. . . and this is what I looked like, two weeks ago in jeans. Progress?

Well, I seem to have hit a plateau. My weight has refused to budge past 146. All the health-and-fitness blogs inform me that this is the time to concentrate on behaviors and habits rather than on numbers, and I am trying to follow their sound advice. Let's have a general slew of accomplishments and encouraging results, shall we?

2. 90-second planks. I've done many of them over the past couple of weeks.

3. Cycling. Though I have yet to unveil my new horse, I have been riding Kate to school and work. The roads and sidewalks are finally clear enough to make mid-length trips a possibility. Riding again is luxurious after a winter of busing and walking.

4. Cues. With a couple of exceptions, I have been eating when hungry and stopping when satisfied (not "full"), and doing it automatically. Meals are more enjoyable. Hunger is the best cook.

5. Green Monsters. These have become a staple. These are the two recipes I use most often:

The past week, I've been adding dollops of 0% Greek yogurt, after buying a tub on a whim and finding it inedible in everything else.

6. Skin. Benzyl peroxide works pretty damn well.

7. Tea. I have been drinking much more unadulterated leaf tea than usual (also, more 5 ounce cappuccinos and not a single 10 ounce latte).

8. Running. This is a mixed bag. While running 3 km (in order to make a March goal), I developed horrible shin splints, from which I have yet to recover. On the other hand, I did run (with a few short walking breaks) all the way to and across the high-level bridge, which used to be a significant bike trip for me.

Well, Glynis's March goals post shamed me into composing an update of my own. I haven't been keeping this space up to date on my progress lately, mainly because lately, there hasn't been much to report. For the past month or so, I've weighed about 145 pounds, most mornings. I'm quite proud that I've managed to lose 4 pounds since Christmas, on hardly any cardio.(At the hospital, they asked me my weight constantly. And I felt tiny.) I've exercised very little - it's been -20 C, and I've been sick. I'm worried about the race in April. There have been so few days suitable for running outside, and I feel more out of practice than I have in a long time. Going back on The Pill for two weeks helped nothing. My mood plummeted and I gained four pounds (three of which I've lost again). To be honest, over the month of February, I've probably spent more time and concern on the state of my skin than on any other aspect of physical health. Having been (up until last summer) blessed with a near-perfect complexion, it is infuriating to discover new and painful eruptions almost every day. Learning to resist the temptation to pick and squeeze has been embarrassingly difficult. I've felt ugly.

The past few days have seen an upswing. On Saturday I had access to a treadmill, and for the first time in my life, I ran on a machine. It was brilliant. I know that many people dislike treadmills, but in my opinion, being able to run unseen, in an artificial and temperate climate, in front of a stereo, with your speed kept steady for you, beats running outside any (Winter) day. I couldn't believe that I was able to keep running at a solid 5mph for 15 minutes straight, hardly breaking a sweat.

Since Friday, I've been taking in an impressive number of fruits and vegetables once again, and drinking green monsters every day. The dumbbells have made several appearances, my waist has been reunited with my hula hoop, and my feet with our one flight of stairs (again, and again). I feel better than I have in weeks, and am desperately trying to find ways to keep up my activity while it continues to blizzard around me.

Some goals for the month of March:

- lose 4 pounds (to reach a weight of 141)

- increase stair-climbing to 75 flights

- run 3km straight, either outside, or on a treadmill

- do 10 full push-ups (I've scaled my repetitions down lately, trying to concentrate on lowering my chest all the way to the ground, but it's time to get back up to 10 in my new and improved form)

I am nervous. I am excited. I am convinced that I am entirely not myself (or, not who I was), and I am thrilled. Running a 5k is on my list of New Year goals, but I had doubted I would actually have the guts to register. To my own surprise, I am really going to do it. I start training tomorrow.

When I realized two days ago that my birthday was coming up, my first thoughts were, 1) I want to have a party and make a truly spectacular torte, 2) I hope someone buys me a bag of matcha powder and a gift certificate to Sephora, and 3) I want to weigh 144 pounds by March 9.

On my twentieth birthday, I want to claim an even twenty-pound weight loss to-date.

It seems odd, perhaps, that the loss of three pounds is so significant to me? But I can explain myself. Since August I have lost 17 pounds and lowered my weight through a slow, healthy, and sustainable process. I eat lunch every day. I eat chocolate every day. Sometimes I can hardly believe it. I know that this time, everything is different.

I've been at this weight before, as a scared, miserable fifteen year-old caught in a starve-binge cycle. Historically, it's been the place to stop, the lowest I could go, before I had to start eating again. (I remember thinking that "losing weight" meant eating 750 calories a day.) In August, though, I set out to lose 30-35 pounds. And this time, I know how to do it. I can do it. I want to do it.

I am sick of being a "big girl" - awkward, unattractive, unstylish and uncomfortable. I am ready to move more easily, to hold my head up, to wear clothes that fit, to relish getting dressed in the morning, to eat in public, to wear shorts in the summer, to pull my hair off my face, to strut a little.

All this I want in my twenty-first year. I've wasted enough time as a teenager. I am ready to grow up.

And so, over the past 48 hours I've made two 5km slogs through the slush and weak sunshine. I've blended spinach in my smoothies, eaten cake for breakfast, bread and hummus for lunch and vegetables for supper, drank litres of water, applied vitamin e oil to my broken-out face, and paid attention to my posture. The goals for the rest of the working week?

- 5km walked or ran every day- 50 flights of stairs at least once- 10 push-ups in a row (I need to get back up to this)

I'm down to 149 pounds (a 15-pound loss since August) and have started doing a little bit of weight training. Now that Christmas is over, I plan to start posting weekly updates again, starting next Saturday. It's good to be back to a routine. The main struggles lately have been getting enough cardio (it's all -20 C, ice and blowing snow in Edmonton) and making myself come up with new healthy meals and recipes. Over the next week I would like to:

- drink unadulterated leaf tea - haul out the dumbbells two or three times- work on my full push-ups- hula hoop- continue walking home from school- climb 50 flights of stairs two or three times- concoct interesting food- blog about my efforts- take my vitamins- try a green monster

After a long hiatus from blogging, running, biking, weighing myself, journaling, and attending class--in short, from everything except writing essays, the end of the semester is in sight and I miss you all.

Despite consciously slacking off on exercising, I am down two pounds to 152. I've been trying to keep eating well during this ridiculously stressful final month, and clearly it's paid off. But I miss running. I miss my bike and the high level bridge. I miss push-ups. I miss hooping. I miss stairs. I want to start lifting weights. Clearly, it's time to jump back into things.

(Some progress was made while I was dropping off the face of the earth. I hooped leftwards for almost a minute, and rightwards for seven minutes. I dealt successfully with several large plates of Christmas baking, eating a little of what I wanted most and not getting sick. I received a second surprised, "Wow, you look slender" - this one from Ros. I left half the hot chocolate in the cup, because I was full, for the first time I can remember. I bought a pair of leggings in size Medium. And I did a 60-second plank.)

My goals for this week:

- run or bike five days out of seven- do twenty push-ups every day, in two or three sets, if necessary- do fifteen push-ups in a row at least once- climb 30 flights of stairs two days out of seven- buy or borrow a set of dumbbells- lose one pound

I exercised for 4.5 hours. I ate the same way I've been eating since September. I ran for 0.75 km straight (not a long distance, but almost four times as far as I could run a year ago). I assessed my jump rope skills (I can do 60 jumps in a row). My weight stayed at 154 pounds.

But nothing I did (save one 2 km run) really felt like a workout. I felt full and heavy all the time. I felt ugly.

Clearly, I am getting used to a lighter and fitter body. I need slightly less food, and slightly more intensive exercise. I need to remember that I am in this to feel better, and if my body isn't happy, I need to do something about it.

I didn't meet any of my goals for this week. Not any. However, I maintained my weight, exercised for approximately 3 hours and forty minutes, babied my leg, went to a tanning salon, and so survived what I thought was going to be a relapse into the depression of last winter. (It wasn't.) I made tea (with ginger root and lemongrass), cranberry sauce, and pumpkin bread. I bundled up and rode my bike through the first snow. I practiced push-ups and leftwards hooping. I bought exotic salad material.

This week, I'd like to make good on my goals from last week. I don't know how running will go, since I tried to go out tonight, and felt pain in my hamstring right away, but the others are all achievable.

This week I just tried to get back on track, after a week-long lapse due to stress and a mountain of homework. I tried to do several things:

- exercise every day while avoiding re-injury to my leg- rein in my habit of eating in the evenings- drink enough water- pay attention to my hunger, craving, and satiety cues

Something worked. I've had the most rewarding and exciting week since I began this plan in August. This week:

- I broke my hula hooping record, hooping for five minutes straight- I started practicing hooping to the left, which, it turns out, does not come automatically with the mastery of rightwards hooping- I broke my push-ups record, doing 10 real push-ups in a row (which means I need to set a new push-ups goal)- I had fun biking to school- I went out to eat, and, for the first time in my life, did not feel sick and overstuffed afterwards. I ate only what I was hungry for, and didn't even want more.- I adjusted my weight goal, from 130 pounds to 135, after looking up a BMI chart and realizing that weighing 130 pounds would put me at an unhealthy weight for my height. This decision is a significant sign that, for the first time in my life, I do not want to be underweight. I want to be strong. Healthy. Beautiful. More things than simply "thin". - I ate piles of delicious, delicious mushrooms- I lost 3 pounds- I experienced the startling sensation of a pair of grey cotton leggings making their way off my waist and towards my ankles. I seem to have outshrunk my first item of clothing.

As for goals, this week I'd like to: - continue to avoid eating after 7 pm- run 0.75 km in one stretch- practice leftwards hooping- lose one pound- assess my jump rope skills, and start including jumping rope in my stats- take my vitamins every day

Before Christmas I'd like to:- do 15 push-ups in a row- run 1 km at a stretch- go swimming with Laura- have people over for dinner- weigh 150 pounds

P.S. Thanks for putting up with the minutiae of this process. I promise to try and post some provocative photo soon.